


Fallen Leaves and Kisses, Please

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gryffindor Connie, Hufflepuff Jean, Hufflepuff Reiner, Jean is a dork, M/M, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Popular Marco, Pureblood Marco, Quidditch Captain Marco, Quidditch Chaser Connie, Quidditch Keeper Marco, Requited crushes, Slytherin Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco's been working up a plan to somehow talk to that boy who he sees everywhere, but never gets hold a conversation with, only to find himself desperately falling on his ass and backtracking when he slams into him in the hall.</p><p>And then again, in that same very hall, with two of the guy's friends and a parasitic plant hanging above their heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen Leaves and Kisses, Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wheelbarrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheelbarrow/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, [Kxrstein!](http://kxrstein.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for your truly amazing prompt! It was very fun to write and you were very helpful on it. Your other prompt was really cool too, and I almost couldn't pick one. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you, [TheFullMidgetAlchemist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thefullmidgetalchemist) for beta'ing this. You're the best!!
> 
> And Happy Holidays to everyone else, I hope you like it, too.

There he was again.

 

It was that boy, who’s name Marco didn’t know, who stared at him a lot. It wasn’t something that was _incredibly_ obvious, but when he found out it wasn’t something that was easy to ignore. Like how when you notice the errors in something finished and published, every time you see said product then that’s all you’re looking for.

 

Marco had noticed the orange-y gold eyes that would follow him in the halls and in their shared classes a few weeks back, but he was pretty sure they had been watching him for much longer than that. He - the boy who watched him - seemed to already have a nice system set up and the tall guy he always ducked behind never seemed to mind that he was often used as a wall to be shielded behind. The taller of the two wouldn’t even react, instead just continuing to amble along the halls, joking with a few others, or bend over his desk, scribbling notes, sometimes chuckling at something one of his tablemates had said.

 

The boy, Marco noticed over time, would hide behind his friend, skin all over turning red like the Gryffindor scarf he would wear - though he was actually a Hufflepuff, as was his rock of a friend - , and continue to peek up over or around him when he thought Marco wasn’t looking. No one else seemed to notice that he would do this, or that Marco would watch him out of the corner of his eye (seriously, the kid was staring at him every second he got, how was that not obvious as hell?), so it seemed to be a thing that they would do together, though his little admirer - please, Marco wasn’t stupid enough to think that the guy had it out for him or anything (or, at least, the thought didn’t last more than a few days in the beginning, before he noticed his colored cheeks) - apparently hadn’t realized that Marco was in on their game yet.

 

It was kind of cute, in that little stumbling puppy way. Marco was unsure of how he was still doing so well in their shared classes, since he never seemed to be paying attention to the board and he felt a little bad for the stranger’s friends who likely had to lend him the notes to study over later and watch him pine over someone he had never talked to.

 

Marco would have talked to him on his own, if he could. He clearly wasn’t as shy and wasn’t fearing the sting of rejection, either (and that guy shouldn’t have had to be afraid of it, but he didn’t _know_ Marco, so it wasn’t something he could really blame him for thinking). The only issue was that the two of them never seemed to be alone at the same time. Multiple times he had tried to brush off people (as politely as he could, of course) and go talk to him, but when he’d get away from the circle that was always demanding his attention, the boy and his flaming face was gone.

 

Sometimes he found it incredibly irritating how no one ever left him alone.

 

Sure, he liked attention just fine. It didn’t bother him that people of all four houses would try to talk to him all the time, growing attached to his memory of their words from yesterday, to his smiles directed their way, to the fact that he was the Keeper on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Socialization and people in general didn’t drain him like it did for others that he knew, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t go anywhere without someone following up behind him, talking to him about anything that popped into their head.

 

He should have had his own alone time to be able to use his charm on the less interactive people around the school. They deserved to have a look at his smiles and talk to him, too. It wasn’t fair that they had to be held back by their lack of courage and the fact that they were put off by the crowds of somehow never ending fans.

  
Wow, that all sounded like he was some stuck up snob when all Marco wanted was to kind of flirt with the boy who’s blush resembled fall leaves and summer flowers.

 

Marco… was never good at poetry. Hopefully that wouldn’t put the boy off, seeing that Marco was going to do his best to somehow, _someday_ talk to him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Some of Marco’s friends in his other houses liked to tease him a lot, saying that he should have been a Ravenclaw based on how often he would disappear to the library to study. It was something he would always argue with how he didn’t really care for _knowing_ what he was learning, but that he wanted to keep his grades high (especially if he wanted to stay in Quidditch), which was quite _ambitious_ of him. He was proud of his house and the fact that he had gotten sorted into it and it showed.

 

So, knowing that, it wasn’t really much of a surprise when he “flaked out” on them, leaving to go somewhere quiet. The Slytherin common room was being used to play some muggle game that apparently was going to take hours and represented a lot of the magical creatures wrong. Though the thought of using his imagination for a board game was fun, Marco only shook his head and left, hastily grabbing his bag and snickering at the pun someone made about playing _Dungeons and Dragons_ in the _dungeons_ of Hogwarts.

 

A few minutes after that, as he scrambled down an empty hall, sorting through his stuff to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind that he would need to go back for, he accidently slammed into someone as he turned a corner, sending them sprawling to the ground. In shock, he dropped his bag, the sound of clattering quills and thumping books a background becoming white noise when he noticed just who was rubbing his head, grumbling something under his breath right in front of Marco.

 

It was that boy, the one who always stared at him. However, it evidently seemed that he had yet to see that it was Marco who was standing above him, too busy reaching around for the things he had dropped. Without anyone around, Marco could see more tiny details about him, like the way his hair had more of golden brown undertone on the shaved, shorter underside of it, or the creamy pale skin that hid under his bangs, something he had barely ever seen void of cherry red.

 

 _Oh, wow… He was pretty cute, actually_.

 

“Um,” started Marco as he dropped to his knees to help pick up their things, careful not to get to close into his personal space. He wouldn’t want to upset him, especially after finally being able to be so close to him ( _and_ getting to see so much more of him, hear his voice, and - ). He had friends who were bothered by people touching them, especially if they didn’t know said people so well. So, yeah, even if he did really want to brush his fingers along the kid’s own, to hopefully see him jump and splutter, he didn’t. “I am _so_ sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and I thought the halls were empty, I didn’t think...”

 

At the sound of Marco’s voice, the boy looked up and Marco probably saw the exact moment his eyes widened, and he froze, the blood in his cheeks being the only thing to show motion. His pupils enlarged and he swallowed, watching as Marco paused as well, waiting to see what he was supposed to do next. It was like he was sitting in front of a frightened, wild animal and he didn’t know what to do. So, after a few more seconds of silent panic, Marco reeled back and reached again for one of his items, something that was behind him and further away from the other, all the while keeping his eyes in front him. “Hey, I recognize you. You’re that shy boy who - ”

 

He didn’t get to finish what he was saying, as the boy’s senses finally kicked in and he straightened up, almost immediately, voice coming out loud (probably louder than he meant) and more than a little freaked, “I have to get to Defence Against the Dark Arts!” before he bolted in the direction he was going, one that Marco was kind of sure that didn’t lead to their Defences class.

 

Besides, it was a Saturday. They didn’t have classes on Saturday.

 

Frowning at the reaction he got, Marco looked down at the spilled supplies that he still had to clean up. Grabbing one of his textbooks to put back away into his bag, Marco started when he saw the soft, _red_ material of a certain Gryffindor scarf, bundled up under it.

 

And it _definitely_ wasn’t Marco’s.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When they went back for break, Marco was absolutely going to church with his mother, because not even a full day later, Marco was blessed by God above in the means of seeing the boy he’s been so suddenly infatuated with again. Even better was it that they were both in the halls again, perfectly all alone.

 

Dashing up to him, his nose buried in some papers, Marco stopped the guy at the end of the hall with perhaps the silliest grin adorning his lips.

 

 _Speaking_ of lips, his looked _extremely_ bitable with the way that they were being played with by the pearly teeth that poked out, and like they were simply the softest pair Marco had ever seen. God, that was totally distracting and not fair in the slightest. Upon noticing Marco’s presence, they parted slightly and his teeth disappeared back into his mouth, leaving Marco to clear his head from thoughts of kissing a _stranger_ (even if said stranger probably wanted to kiss him too). His face did that thing where it turned bright, stark red as usual and his whole frame went rigid, expression freezing in shock.

 

Nevertheless, Marco did _not_ go still. Instead, he dug around in his bag until he produced the fluffy crimson and gold scarf. He wanted nothing more than to just wrap it back around his neck where it belonged, but he knew better than that. Instead, he felt his grin widening as he handed it to the other, who watched with another swallow, the dark spheres in his eyes practically swallowing up his sundown-colored irises. “So, you dropped this the other day and I saw you here and I wanted to give it back, uh,” shit, he didn’t know the guy’s name -

  
“Hey! Jean!” Well, that helped, because Marco’s name undoubtedly _wasn’t_ Jean. Turning to see who he had to thank for giving a name to the boy who’d been plaguing his thoughts recently, Marco jumped when he saw that it was, of course, the huge guy who _Jean_ (god, his name truly fit his looks and Marco was so happy to no longer call him “the boy”) constantly ducked behind in the halls and in classes. He looked like he would be a great Beater. 

 

Marco was glad that he wasn’t, however, because shit, if he got smacked in the face by a Bludger by _that_ hunk of human metal, he probably wouldn’t ever feel it again.

 

Another boy ducked out behind the taller one, one with a bald head and decked out in Gryffindor robes. His darting, copper eyes flipped around the scene, taking in everything as fast as he could. Marco raised his eyebrows in remembrance that the said boy was Connie Springer, one of Gryffindor's Chasers. Smile falling into something more casual, Marco raised his hand in the beginning stages of a wave when Connie’s eyes fell on something above them, on the ceiling and -

 

Oh shit.

 

Lips curling into a smirk, Connie’s eyes jerked back to Jean, who froze up under his gaze as he, too, understood the cold sense of dread that was filling Marco’s stomach at what Connie had found. “Looks like you gotta kiss ‘im, Jeanbo.”

 

There was the always terrifying mistletoe above them, the parasitic plant dangling at the end of the hall, right above their heads. Jean looked like he could honestly puke, right then and there. That wasn’t really doing buckets for Marco’s self esteem.

 

The tall guy who’s name Marco still didn’t know started “oohing” and Jean immediately bristled, fear falling away from him like it was just a cloak he had been wearing, as he turned to spit at his friend, “Shut the fuck _up_ , Reiner!” Reiner, what a nice name. “We were just talking.”

 

Huh. Marco didn’t remember much of Jean’s input on their conversation, but he was glad that they had hit the “talking” level. He wondered what it would be like when they finally went on to calling each other by their names. Or kissing. That would be nice, yes. Oh wait. They already get to kiss.

 

Kind of. The way Jean kept bickering with his friends, face getting more and more heated with embarrassment and anger, the more Marco didn’t want to kiss him. Not like that. Not when Jean was on the verge of probably storming out, or pissing himself, or both. He wanted to kiss Jean when Jean was leaning towards him too, maybe with a smile, maybe with a smirk, he didn’t know, but either way would work. Just not… at that moment.

 

So, to get the moment over with and help Jean and his poor soul get out of the situation, Marco leaned forward to press a kiss to Jean’s cheek, which would surely be enough for a simple mistletoe kiss, of course. Of course.

 

The only problem was that when he was barely close enough to kissing him, where he could almost feel his skin on his mouth, Jean had turned back to him, the words, “It’s alright, Marco, you don’t have to-” barely out before their lips were touching. Jean had turned too fast, hadn’t given Marco enough time to move back. So, with their lips touching, barely, but enough to count, their breaths caught up and stilled, Marco’s heart pounding, it was certainly a win for that lone branch of mistletoe.

  
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a win for Marco, who was left behind when Jean jerked away, moments later, just as he had moved to try and twist his arms around Jean’s waist, and booked it down the hall and around the corner, scarf flowing behind him, not unforgotten (which was a bust, as Marco had planned on using it to talk to Jean again).

 

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly, Jean’s staring hadn’t lessened after their accidental kiss, though he seemed considerably more red before he even looked up at Marco. It was obvious that he had just been thinking of the event, but he still never talked to Marco because of it. However, he did happen to catch Marco’s eye more often, actually noticing that Marco, too, was watching him. He’d always blush more and glance away, checking to see if Marco was still staring after a few seconds.

 

It was awfully cute and Marco wished he wasn’t so goddamn shy so he could just fucking kiss the boy again.

 

Or, like, be a normal person and just talk to him again first.

 

But Marco hadn’t stumbled upon him in the halls again, so, with how easily Jean disappeared on him after classes, he couldn’t talk to him again. Knowing this, Marco had pulled Connie (and then later Reiner) off to the side to help with some ten-minute plan he had come up with while daydreaming when he was supposed to be taking copying notes for a friend.

 

Anyway, plan.

 

They seemed to be willing to go along with it, open to helping with the part that Marco couldn’t accomplish on his own, saying that Jean _needed_ this, anyway. That if Marco hadn’t sprung the idea, it would have ended up happening on its own, with or without him. He could kind of tell that they knew that he had planned out more than a simple “apologize for that accidental hallway kiss, _man_ ”. _Am I really that obvious?_

 

Shaking the silly doubts away from his mind as well as the chill that threatened to cling to his fingers (why didn’t he bring gloves?), Marco tried to keep himself from pacing around the empty field. Soon enough Jean would come and he could… talk… to him. About the thing.

 

Jesus, he needed to focus.

 

Okay, so Jean would be there soon, so Marco could do his totally smooth and cool (he wouldn’t listen to anyone who tried to tell him otherwise) line and hopefully they could hit a point where they could actually talk to each other without having to be alone because any reason that included seeming more of that pretty skin and those lovely lava-like eyes that made his heart _thud_ when they peered deep into his own was a good enough reason to be around him. If they were just going to talk, that would be alright. If they were going to kiss, then _that_ would be _more_ _than alright_. He was alright with it all.

 

Marco was usually a pretty chill guy in his own opinion, as he tended to go along with a lot of things, but the whole shebang with Jean was really… the tip of the top of the mountain. Or however that went. He brushed those thoughts aside as well.

 

All in good time, apparently, as Marco spun around at the sound of leaves crunching beneath boots, his grin from before jumping to settle on his lips when he noticed that it was Jean coming to join him, just as he planned - and hoped (there was always a chance of course that Jean wouldn’t come and he would be left to freeze in the cold weather, all alone).

 

“ _Jean_ ,” whispered Marco before he could help himself, hoping the wind would carry his voice (maybe, perhaps, not including his _tone_ ?) over the the ever declining space between them. What the fuck was wrong with him? They’d hardly talked, but Marco couldn’t get the thought of him out of his mind since he had found out that he was the one Jean was staring at and their barely-a-kiss seemed to spark something in him that made him almost _addicted_ to the idea of Jean. He was acting like they were star-crossed lovers and they weren’t.

 

Yet, with the way Jean shook in the wind, looking up at Marco with those large, gorgeous eyes, it felt like nothing but.

 

Though Jean had stopped moving, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his scarf wound tightly around his chin, Marco continued to step forward, only halting when he was right in front of Jean (who, despite being so still Marco could barely see him breathe, hadn’t reacted badly to said close proximity). “You forgot something.” Jean’s head tilted to the right, lips parting again like they had before when Marco had been just as close. “Jean, I…” God, this was so…

 

 _I don’t have to draw this out_.

 

Eyes flickering to glance at Jean’s mouth again, Marco pressed closer, one hand moving to drift along Jean’s back. He watched as his eyes widened and his precious mouth quivered just briefly, his bottom lip being sucked under his upper teeth when Marco used his other hand to slowly cup his jaw, giving him any excuse to back out. “You…” Neither of them moved and Marco took it as a good sign to go on, “You forgot; this.” Giving one last glance to Jean’s eyes to search and see if he _didn’t_ want that, Marco pushed forward and pressed his mouth against Jean’s own.

 

God.

  
The second their lips met, Jean’s own popped out from between his teeth, immediately pushing back against him as his hands slid up Marco’s own, feet shifting closer, further into Marco’s embrace. One of them let out a sigh, something that was swallowed up by the other the second it was released, and Jean was surging forward, aligning his body with Marco’s as his fingers dug into the material around his shoulders, tugging Marco impossibly forward, pushing him into their kiss. His fingers were then drifting along Marco’s neck and Marco found his own palms along Jean’s waist, sliding around to taunt long his lower back.

 

After a few moments, Jean pulled away, a giddy smile written from one cheek to another as he stared up with his honey blossom eyes, the color glinting differently than Marco had seen before, something that even the overcast sun couldn’t hide. “ _God_ , you look…” he trailed off into something with more pants and deep intakes of breath, though he seemed like he had something he wanted to say, so Marco waited for him to finish, the itchings of his own grin biting at his mouth. What would he say? That Marco looked fantastic? Like an angel? Just as he tasted? Heavenly?

 

“Cold, come here.” Jean finished, smile not shrinking an inch at Marco’s confusion as he slowly unwrapped his scarf so that it was still curled around his neck, but held lots of remaining material as well. Then, with the excess fluffy garment, Jean slowly twisted it around Marco’s neck, fingers lingering along covered skin there. His gaze turned back to Marco’s eyes and upon seeing the pure _adoration_ in them, he gave a small smirk and a short yank at the ends of the scarf, which lead to Marco’s lips crashing against his own again.

 

At some point Marco had murmured that Jean looked so lovely, so adorable, but it was lost in their sighs and pants, in the breaths of air that melted across each other’s skin when they finally pulled to a stop. It wasn’t lost, however, in the way that he stared down at Jean when they had tangled their fingers together and held tightly, or when pointed out the way that their hot air made little clouds in the crisp breeze, mingling with each other’s little puffs. And Marco certainly hadn’t missed the reply of how, _yes, I would like to visit Hogsmeade with you_ , was whispered at some point against his cheek, with warm lips and then by an icy nose.

 

Jean had definitely caught the way that Marco’s heart, speeding under his palms, told him that Marco was looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually super fun to write and I had a fantastic time.
> 
> The JM Gift Exchange was really cool and I'll likely participate next year, too, if there is one.


End file.
